Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY82T4PQMKJ9PYHQ0B3FXC0

The flickering neon sign of "Lou's Laundromat" cast a sickly green glow across Molly’s face as she folded a towel with improbable precision. Bill, meanwhile, was sketching furiously on a napkin, occasionally muttering to himself. "Are you *sure* about this, Bill?" Molly asked, not looking up. "Stealing presents from children’s birthday parties? It’s… low, even for us.” Bill looked up, offended. "Low? Molly, it's strategic! Think about it. Minimal security, maximum emotional distraction. Parents are too busy wiping frosting off faces and dodging rogue bouncy castles to notice a couple of professionals at work." "Professionals who are stealing LEGOs and sparkly unicorn backpacks," Molly countered, dropping the towel into a basket. "It lacks a certain… elegance, don’t you think? Remember the Diamond Duchess? The Belgravia Bank job? This is… a party." "The Diamond Duchess was exhausting! The Belgravia Bank required vents, rappelling gear, and a surprisingly detailed knowledge of reinforced steel. This requires a strategically timed distraction and a decent-sized tote bag." He tapped the napkin with his pen. “See? I’ve mapped out the optimal route. We enter through the side gate, I create a diversion... pigeons, perhaps? A rogue balloon animal army…?" Molly sighed. "Pigeons? Bill, you’re going to release pigeons at a children's party? It'll look like a Hitchcock film, but with more cake." "Fine, fine. No pigeons. Balloons. I’ll… subtly replace the air with helium. Watch them float away dramatically while everyone’s focused on a piñata battle. Classic misdirection.” "And while the kids are staring at ascending My Little Ponies, you and I...?" Molly prompted, leaning against the washing machine. “We sweep. Like a trash fire through a pile of brightly wrapped joy. I’m thinking high-value targets. Remote-control cars, those ridiculously expensive educational toys… Anything parents clearly spent way too much on and will secretly be relieved to be rid of.” "Relieved to be rid of?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "Bill, they *bought* those things.” "Details, details. The point is, minimal resistance, considerable profit. I've even scouted the location. Penelope Plumtree's daughter, Tiffany, is turning five. Theme is 'Enchanted Forest.’ Think fairies, glitter, and a terrifyingly large inflatable toadstool. Perfect cover!” “A toadstool, you say? Is it guarding anything valuable? Like, say... the primary present pile?” Bill grinned, a glint in his eye. "Of course! It's strategically positioned between the bouncy castle and the dessert table. My plan involves a gentle nudge. The toadstool falls, everyone screams, we scoop and scoot.” Molly shuddered. “Scoot with a mountain of plastic toys. You’ve really thought this through, haven't you?” “Naturally. I even packed tiny, sequined masks. For a truly immersive, professional touch.” He held up a tiny, sparkly mask. “What do you think? Too much?" Molly stared at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Bill, you're insane. Absolutely, utterly insane. But… it’s going to be hilarious."